


preparations

by zeitgeistofnow (orphan_account)



Series: each night i ask the stars up above / why must I be a teenager in love? [4]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: (but not rly it's more meeting ur sons boyfriends uncle), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cooking, Family Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Meeting the Parents, bato is.. dad, brief reference to kya's death, they are BOTH DADS omg love that for them, u thought u were getting a bakoda fic out of me that didn't have cooking scenes?? u thought WRONG, you heard that right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:13:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25681849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/zeitgeistofnow
Summary: “kids,” bato says, clapping to get their attention, “we’re having zuko’s family over for dinner tonight, and i expect the house to be…” he scans the living room. “less of a mess than currently.”sokka groans. he’s sprawled out on the couch with his feet propped up on one arm and his head on the other. bato remembers when he was about three feet shorter and would stretch out, trying to reach both ends of the couch. god, his kids are so much bigger now. “c’mon, bato, zuko’s over here like every other day. i’m sure he’s already told iroh that the house is a disaster.”
Relationships: Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: each night i ask the stars up above / why must I be a teenager in love? [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1812379
Comments: 55
Kudos: 483
Collections: Bakoda Fleet Week 2020





	preparations

“Kids,” Bato says, clapping to get their attention, “we’re having Zuko’s family over for dinner tonight, and I expect the house to be…” He scans the living room. “Less of a mess than currently.”

Sokka groans. He’s sprawled out on the couch with his feet propped up on one arm and his head on the other. Bato remembers when he was about three feet shorter and would stretch out, trying to reach both ends of the couch. God, his kids are so much bigger now. “C’mon, Bato, Zuko’s over here like every other day. I’m sure he’s already told Iroh that the house is a disaster.”

“No excuses,” Bato says, “you tidy up when you have guests for dinner.”

“Babe,” Hakoda complains, walking up behind his partner and wrapping his arms around Bato’s waist, “the house is  _ fine.  _ Just make some coleslaw and no one will look twice at the kids’ mess. Zuko loves your coleslaw, I’m sure his family shares the sentiment.”

Sokka pushes himself up on his elbows. “Zuko also doesn’t care about dad’s papers everywhere! Iroh says that a messy house is the sign of a happy family and he understands if we don’t have time to clean up all the time. Iroh respects that other families have other priorities,” Sokka says, sounding like he’s quoting the old man, “and his kids are like a whole year older than me and Katara, so obviously they’re more mature and able to clean up better than us.” He scrolls down his phone and taps a few times. “We have a perfect excuse for why the house is a little messy.”

“It looks like a tornado ran through the living room.” Bato crosses his arms. “ And I’m sure you’d love if I told Zuko you think he’s the mature one.”

“Oh, he knows.” Sokka laughs. “Sheesh, Pops, you’ve talked to him. You’ve known me since I was a baby. You think  _ anyone  _ would ever think I’m the mature one?”

Bato rubs at his forehead. “Hakoda, tell your son-”

“Nope.”

“Katara,  _ please  _ get your brother to help you clean up the house.”

Katara smirks and snaps her book closed. It  _ thumps  _ when she drops it on the bookshelf. It must be a thousand pages. Bato remembers when he was helping her read  _ Pat the Bunny.  _ “Sokka,” she sings, “if you don’t help me clean up I’ll tell dads about what I found in Suki’s backpack-”

“Katara!” Sokka yelps, but he’s lost and he knows it. Bato decides not to press on whatever Katara’s using to blackmail him. That’s Sokka’s business. For now. “Fine. Only if Aang is the one who vacuums.”

“Me?” Aang asks from the corner. Bato blinks at him. He’d forgotten that he kid was there. Aang’s tucked behind Katara’s armchair, face buried in a math textbook. His bald head only barely pokes out from behind the sizeable book. “I hate vacuuming.”

“Yeah, which is why this is me getting back at you for teasing me and Suki and Zuko about watching Glee last week.”

“It’s a dumb show,” Aang says, “I obviously respect whatever media anyone chooses to watch, though. Bullying people for their interests is wrong.”

“You three are watching  _ Glee?”  _ Hakoda laughs with his face buried in the back of Bato’s cardigan. “Wow, I thought all you LGBT teenagers decided it was problematic years ago.”

“It’s a terrible show,” Sokka agrees. He rubs at the back of his neck sheepishly. “But it’s the kinda batshit crazy that’s really entertaining.”

“Language,” Bato chides. He claps again. “C’mon, kids, mobilize.” Some of his seriousness must show on his face because the trio slowly hauls themselves to an upright position. Bato turns to Hakoda. “You, sir, are coming into the kitchen with me.”

“So,” Hakoda says, following his partner into their kitchen, “I was thinking pasta? But also, like, I really do think you should make your coleslaw and I don’t know if that’s a pasta thing.” He starts to open and close cabinets as he talks, accumulating an eccentric selection of spices on the counter. 

“It’s not,” Bato says, watching Hakoda, “but I’m sure Sokka would insist that Zuko and his family don’t care.” He mentally catalouges the things he needs for his coleslaw against the things in their fridge and finds it wanting.  _ Fuck.  _ They’re going to be here in forty-five minutes- is that long enough to send Sokka to the store? Even if it is, his coleslaw really should sit overnight, especially if he’s going to serve it to guests. 

Hakoda watches him calmly. “Babe,” he says, “you’re stressing yourself out again. Tonight would go fine if we served peanut butter and jelly.”

“I just- these could be our future in-laws! What if we make a terrible first impression with our mess of a living room?” He studiously resists the urge to gnaw at his fingernail. It’s a habit he’s trying to break. “Sorry, sorry. There’s no reason to worry about it.”

“Yeah,” Hakoda says, abandoning the penne noodles he was holding to wrap an arm around Bato. “But you’re fine. I like that you think about things like that. Our son and I don’t notice anything. Without you and Katara we’d just be walking into poles and letting those stacks of paper on the dining room table accumulate up to the ceiling.”

“You don’t give yourself enough credit,” Bato says, amused. He leans into Hakoda. 

“Oh yeah? Remember those years you were living in Norway? I didn’t vacuum my apartment once in all three of those years. It’s a testament to my amazing personality that I managed to net Kya  _ and  _ you.”

“Ha ha. Amazing personality and cooking skills, right?” They share a smile. Hakoda’s cooking ability was a new development after Kya’s passing- the kids needed someone to make them meals and it was before Bato and Hakoda started dating so Bato wasn’t there to make meals every night. He’s pretty good at it now, if a bit adventurous for the kids’ tastes sometimes.

“Obviously. I know you used to love how good I was at picking up Macdonalds on my way home from work.”

“Oh, shut up.” Bato opens the fridge and looks at it, a little bit calmer this time. “Should I make cookies?”

“You should get Katara to make cookies,” Hakoda says. “I love you and I love your cooking, but I do not think we are dads that make good baked goods.”

“Love you too. I’ll grab her in a moment.” Bato shuts the fridge and starts to absently wipe down the counter, resigning himself to not being able to do much of worth right now. 

Hakoda takes a jar of marinara sauce out of a cabinet and pours it into a pot, then retrieves a squash and a few tomatoes from the fridge. “Instead of standing there and looking handsomely distracting, you could help chop stuff for dinner.”

Bato takes the vegetables, relieved at having a distraction from his impending stress about tonight. “Thanks, love.” The knife in his hand and the easily choppable vegetables make him feel more in control. Calmer. Hakoda always knows the right way to calm Bato down, but Bato could say the same thing about himself for Hakoda. The same thing for Kya with both of them.

The two of them and Kya always fit together. Even now it feels a little bit like they’ve lost a limb. The two of them used to help her cook- mincing and shredding and stirring while she did all the chemistry, all the spicing and stirring. Hakoda and Kya with their toddlers and Uncle Bato, the family friend who slept in their living room and played cribbage with Gran Gran. 

Bato doesn’t know if he’d want to go back to those times, but he misses them like hell. 

“It’s nights like these I get why Kya always needed both of us chopping vegetables,” Hakoda jokes, leaving his simmering sauce to peer around Bato’s shoulders at his carefully diced zucchini. “There’s so many more steps than I remember.”

Bato chuckles. Hakoda always used to complain about the sheer amount of vegetables that went into every meal, how many of them needed to be cut into neat squares or shredded into zoodles. “That’s growth,” he says, “I’m proud of you.”

Hakoda smiles up at him. He’s getting smile lines at the corners of his eyes. They make him look perpetually joyful, the old man with a full life behind him and a full life before him. “Oh, you’re proud of me? Well  _ I’m  _ proud of you for being so handsome and sexy all the time.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’m proud of you for being such a wonderful father and husband. You really make me and the kids’ lives better with every morning you wake up.”

Hakoda beams. “Well, I’m proud of you for the way you respected Sokka and Katara’s feelings about their mother’s death and never tried to take her place.”

They’ve had conversations about Sokka and Katara and Kya before, but some part of Bato’s heart always does strange contortions when they do. “I’m proud of you for never trying to make me,” he says. “I’m proud of you for letting me in.”

“I’m proud of you for letting  _ me  _ in. You were always just as close to her as you were to me.” Bato had stopped chopping vegetables a while ago and he finally puts down the knife and turns to press his forehead to Hakoda’s. The other man falls into the touch. “I’m proud of you for coming back, for taking care of the kids.”

“I’m proud of you for being there for me.”

“You too,” Bato says softly. A moment of silence, just Bato quietly rubbing circles into Hakoda’s back, then:

“I’m proud of both of you for not bringing up the subject of my  _ dead mother  _ an hour before you meet my boyfriend’s parents!” Sokka yells from the living room. “Also you two flirting is gross. Stop.”

Hakoda and Bato lean away from each other, exchanging amused looks. Sometimes they forget that the main floor doesn’t actually have doors. 

“Hey,” Aang says, “your dads are people too! They’re allowed feelings.”

“No they’re not,” Sokka says. Hakoda raises an eyebrow at Bato and then there’s a quiet yelp from Aang. They both tense.

“Sokka, you can’t ruffle my hair when I don’t have any,” Aang grouses. Bato and Hakoda relax and Hakoda starts to laugh. Bato turns back to his chopping and Hakoda starts to stir the sauce again. “Some kids we’ve got, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bato says. He loves them so much.

Katara mixes the batter with a spatula she found in the pantry as Bato slow pours chocolate chips into the bowl. All the veggies are chopped and now it’s only a matter of finishing the cookies and making sure Hakoda doesn’t overcook the noodles. 

“Are you gonna make your coleslaw, Pop?” Katara asks. Bato shakes his head.

“We don’t quite have enough cabbage and no coleslaw is better than cabbageless coleslaw.”

Katara frowns up at him, then back down at her cookie dough. “Cabbageless coleslaw is shredded carrots and liquid. It’s not even coleslaw.”

“His point exactly, kiddo,” Hakoda says, reaching over to swatch at her braid. “We  _ are  _ going to have my famous penne pasta, however. I’m sure Zuko and co. will love it.”

Katara makes a face. “With the zucchini? Bato, will you get the cookies sheets out?”

“ _ Yes _ with the zucchini. I thought you liked it.” Hakoda looks exageratedly sad and Bato presses a kiss to the top of his head as he crosses the kitchen to get their baking sheets and vegetable oil. 

“ _ Aang  _ likes it. I can’t believe you’re getting us confused.” Katara starts to roll a chunk of cookie dough into a ball. Hakoda puts his hands on his hips.

“I’m not, you’ve never mentioned not liking my squash and zucchini pasta. And even if I was, it would be understandable. Three kids is a lot.”

“Aang isn’t even your kid,” Katara says, frowning playfully.

“He practically is. We feed and clothe him. He has a toothbrush here. We are very close friends with his guardian,” Bato points out. 

“Okay, well, not an excuse to get us mixed up. Three kids  _ isn’t  _ a lot. Bato’s mom had  _ six  _ and she even remembers all her grandkids.”

“Bato’s mom is superhuman,” Hakoda returns. “And I didn’t get you guys mixed up! I just thought everyone loved zucchini. It’s such a wonderful vegetable, just like you three are such wonderful kids.” He flicks Katara’s braid again and she leans into his side absently for a hug. Bato greases the cookie sheet and puts it next to the mixing bowl. 

Katara will finish up the cookies on her own, and Iroh and Azula and Zuko will be here in- Bato checks the clock on the stove before remembering it’s been off since 2012 and checking his phone- twenty minutes. Time to check on the boys. 

They’re sitting cross-legged on the coffee table, meditating. Well, Aang is meditating. Sokka is pretending to meditate. They look like children, criss-cross-applesauce and faces clear of any creases they might have on a normal day. They look like  _ his  _ children.

The room is passably clean, Bato will give them that, although there are a few books underneath the couch and a pillow lying on the floor. Bato decides to finish tidying as he waits for either boy to notice his presence. Books on the bookshelf, although one of them is an overdue library book they’ve been looking for for months, pillow nicely placed on the end of the couch. Katara’s hair tie goes around Bato’s wrist because it’s  _ his  _ hair tie now. It’s only when Bato tries to rearrange the throw pillows so that they match the seat they’re on that Sokka’s eyes flutter open.

“Bato,” he protests, “you can’t move that cushion.”

Bato looks down at the pillow he’s holding. It’s probably the softest one they have, shiny gold velvet. “Oh?”

“Yeah, Zuko always sits in that corner of the couch and it’s his favorite pillow.” If Bato thinks about it, he does have quite a few idle memories of Zuko sitting there and hugging the pillow. He puts it back down.

“Sheesh, yeah. Should’ve remembered.”

“Nah, it’s not your fault. I wouldn’t have remembered that either if we weren’t dating.” Sokka blushes. Ah, Bato remembers that: knowing every strange little detail of Hakoda down to which side of his face he started shaving on. 

Bato sits down beside him on the coffee table, legs stretched out. Sokka mirrors him. His legs aren’t quite as long as Bato’s yet but both he and his sister are a good inch or two taller than Hakoda. “You’re such a cute little kid,” he says fondly.

“I’m not  _ little,  _ Pops.” Sokka protests. Bato smiles. He still always gets a burst of warmth in his chest when either of the kids call him Pop, just because he can hardly believe that he gets to be their dad. He loves them so much.

“Yeah you are. You’ll always be a troublemaking five year old to me,” he says. “But I’m so proud of the man you’ve become.”

Sokka smiles at his feet. “Whatever. You’re still taller than me so I don’t know how much of a man I am.”

“Sounds like you’re insulting your dad there,” Bato says. “And you probably won’t get as tall as me, sad to say. You don’t have my mother’s six foot seven genes.”

“Your mom is  _ so  _ tall,” Sokka sighs. “It’s not fair that I have to have dads height DNA.”

“C’mon, kiddo, you know that your worth isn’t tied to your height. You’re already pretty tall.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He fiddles with his thumbs and looks up at Bato. His hair is falling out of his wolftail- Hakoda had trimmed off the split ends and then tripped and cut off another few inches so only most of his undercut fits in a ponytail. Bato brushes a few strands out of his face. “What if Iroh  _ doesn’t  _ like dinner? What if he hates you guys? Like, me and Zuko aren’t going to get married, obviously, but like, sometimes people marry the people they’re dating senior year. I don’t want my in-laws to hate you guys.”

Bato lets out a laughing sigh. “Kiddo, they’re not going to hate us unless something goes _ terribly  _ wrong. From what we’ve heard about Iroh, I think we could serve PB & J and he would think it was fine.”

Sokka stares out their picture-window at the mostly empty streets. “Yeah, you’re right. The old guy loves me.”

Bato squeezes his shoulder. “So do we. We just want tonight to be perfect for you.”

Sokka looks up at him, brown eyes open. “Love you too, I guess.” He shakes his head. “Sheesh, this whole conversation has been like, super embarrassing. Do you need me to do anything else?”

Bato shakes his head fondly. “All the best things in life are a little bit embarrassing. And now that you mention it, could you make us a playlist for tonight? Your father has had Hozier on repeat for a while now and I could do with something else.”

“You think I know anything about music?” Sokka rolls his eyes.

“I think that all my music knowledge is a few years out of date,” Bato says, “and that your boyfriend has been talking your ear off about his favorite bands since you met him.”

Sokka smiles at his hands. “Yeah, he has.”

“T minus 5 minutes,” Sokka bellows from the living room. Bato hurriedly finishes wiping down the dining room table. They never use it for eating, usually having family dinners at the small round table in the kitchen, and it’s covered in a few years worth of glitter glue and paper shreds. “Zuko just snapped me to say that he and his family are in the car.”

“I’m honestly really excited to meet Azula,” Katara says from the doorway to the kitchen. “It sounds like she’s just as good at insulting you two as I am.”

“Better,” Sokka says grimly, and Katara grins.

“I can get some tips, then.”

“Oh,  _ please  _ don’t,” Sokka groans. Bato walks back into the kitchen and drapes the rag he was using over the sink’s faucet. He leans down to kiss his husband and Hakoda smiles up at him.

“You ready for this, babe?”

Bato lets out a heavy breath. “I think so, yeah.”

“I’ve got the photo albums Kya used to make out of the basement,” Hakoda says. “I’m going to show Zuko’s family so many cute pictures of baby Sokka. They’ll love it and they’ll love us and we’ll be the best in-laws ever.”

“Me and Zuko aren’t getting married!” Sokka shouts and Hakoda grins and all of Bato’s tension disappears. “And don’t show them my baby pictures I look so dumb.”

“I’m going to show them his baby pictures,” Hakoda affirms. “This is the dad I was born to be.”

Bato absently stirs the pasta sauce some more. “We’re good dads, aren’t we?’

“The best,” Hakoda agrees, wrapping his arms around Bato’s waist. There’s a conspicuous lack of disagreement from the trio of kids in the living room and Hakoda laughs into Bato’s neck. “We’re so ready for this.”

**Author's Note:**

> \- i LOVE writing parents/family fluff it's like.. a healthy relationship with your dad..... cooking... children... 💕💘 thats the shit  
> \- honestly tho i wrote this last sunday and don't remember many of my notes so you don't have to listen to me ramble unless i come up with something in the next few minutes. uh.   
> \- oh so this is technically my last bakoda week thing (i did art for it too!! check out my art blog for those :3 the link's at the bottom of the notes) but rest assured i DO have two more bakoda fics in the works (one's finished/slightly edited and waiting to be published and the other exists only in my void of a mind, but they're coming). they're both in my ['cooking as an expression of bato's love'](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858732) series which like. as said in the notes i am incapable of writing bakoda fic that's not about cooking food?? i'm dumb and gay and the yearning is stored in the kitchen.   
> \- as usual! you can find me on tumblr [@yearning-hours](https://yearning-hours.tumblr.com/) (my personal blog) or [@timetohope](https://timetohope.tumblr.com/) (my art blog where i post drawings and links to my fics). pls comment and kudos it makes me SO happy.   
> \- finally if you're so inclined/interested in this series, i have 3 fics swirling around in my brain, one of which i've got a few paragraphs of down. i'll probably do all of them at some point, but which would u like first? **a)** suki/yue and zukka fic with like.. mika vibes about them going grocery shopping and about how yue and sokka both carry a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders, **b)** mailee fic with apes of the state/against me! vibes. no i don't have any ideas for the plot yet but it would feature azula and probably like.. playgrounds at night, or **c)** kataang fic ft. toph that would have: gender squishy aang having Gender Talks with zuko, general middle school shenanigans, and aang slipping supportive notes into katara's backpack. i literally can't decide which one and so i can't focus on writing any of them so it'd be nice to have another perspective!


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